Deadpool Does Fanfiction
by Bishou no Marina
Summary: The Merc with a Mouth is contracted to "fix" the dark world of fanfiction by hijacking its stories. Rated M for graphic violence, adult themes, profanity, arson, indecent exposure, trespassing, loitering, inappropriate use of a chimichanga, vandalism, vulgarity, delusions of grandeur, verbal abuse, larceny, stalking, relentless harassment, breaking and entering, and Deadpool.
1. The Contract of Mystery

**Author's Note:** Since this is primarily based on his more recent comics (Daniel Way, etc.) and the new game (buy it!), Deadpool's Voices will be included, as seen on the cover. Because this site doesn't allow font changes, his courier-font box Voice will be in _italics_, while the yellow box Voice will be in **bold**. Also, to clarify, I won't be trashing anybody's work. That would just be rude and nasty. All the sub-stories will be made up. Any similarities to actual fanfics are not intentional, blah blah blah. Thanks!

* * *

Yo, Reader! Yeah, you! Wanna see a trick?

Sit…

Staaaaay.

Read!

I know. Awesome, right?

_That trick only works if they think our cover photo looks cool._

**No sweat! We look like a **_**boss**_**. Skin-tight suit, ripped bod, **_**katana**_**…**

_Vague suggestion of criminal insanity…_

They can read everything we think, dumbass. The suggestion isn't vague. It's pretty damn obvious.

**Like a **_**BOSS!**_

_Why are we doing this, again?_

[EARLIER…]

Flashback! Shit, I hate exposition. Okay, screw it. I guess this is technically part of my deal, so I'll fill you in.

**Teehee! Innuendo!**

_Wink._

Shut up. Some of them might be dudes. We _don't _put our penis in dudes. Half the reason I'm even doing this is because 90% of all fanfiction readers are chicks. Some of them might even be hot! If not, that's totally okay. I got it covered. You see, I have to wear a mask because I'm hideously scarred from my tragic battle with cancer, and I—

_That is the worst pickup line we have. It hasn't worked even once._

**Yeah, what the hell, ladies! Ugly guys with badass healing factors that not only keep them from dying but also keep the CANCER regenerating need love, too! …Someone should put that on a bracelet.**

_Keep saying "cancer." Maybe they'll start feeling sorry for us. That will really help with the story. We can forge a bond._

I was gonna say, I have some spare masks. I mean, just if you're, you know, gross.

_That is definitely not helping._

OKAY, voices in my head. Enough, already. Exposition-time. Here we go…Ahem. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

_Mostly the worst._

**The best times have lots of tacos and money. Also, kickass explosions. And girls who love us for US.**

_And not just because we're great in bed._

I was sitting in my crappy apartment…

**Why IS our apartment so crappy? We kill people for money!**

_ Yes, but our financial decisions are horribly irresponsible._

I was sitting in my crappy apartment, just minding my own business.

_Watching bad pornography._

**It's so lonely, here…did we mention we're disfigured by cancer?**

Suddenly, I was interrupted by an email notification. I only get emails from two kinds of people: the assholes who try to sell me male enhancement products—you know who you are!—and, every once in a while, the ones who need stuff done, by which I mean incredible, impossible feats which only a man of my particular skill set and genetic mutation can provide. For a not-so-modest fee, of course. I'm not _that_ easy.

_Don't overdo it. _

**Yeah, we sound like a total douche. Quit making us look bad!**

I opened the email.

_Dear Deadpool, _

_I'm writing to you for help because you're one of my favorite (anti-)heroes, and because you actually KNOW you're a Marvel Comics character. I need someone with that kind of awareness to do a job for me. How do you feel about hijacking other stories? I've got wrongs that need to be righted, and you've got bullets, regeneration, and the genius to put them to good use. It's…it's fanfiction, Deadpool. The awkward shipping, the terrible plots, the misrepresented characters…it's tearing me apart and I can't take it anymore. I need you. I'm desperate. I'm generous with my rewards. Will you do it?_

_ -Marina_

_ P.S. If you agree to do this, I will not only pay you—I will also write you a sweet dance party/orgiastic festival at the end. I'm an author. You know I can make it happen. All you have to do is let me put you in the story. Any details you need will be given to you by a contact in each new world. _

**She thinks we're a genius!**

_That's not a good sign._

"A damsel in distress!" I declared, stroking my chin thoughtfully—actually, the mask that covers my chin. _Yes_, I wear it even when I'm alone. Sometimes. Depends on the artist.

_Marina? What is that, Russian? Greek?_

**Foreign chicks are so HOT!**

"Alas! This is the internet. You can't trust anybody, these days," I said regretfully. "She could be a 50-year-old trucker with a smartphone, an ex-wife, a dead dog, and a lonely heart."

_Statistically speaking, this IS actually probably a girl. She wants us to do fanfiction._

"A fair point. And if she _is_ a he, we can always just gank him and take his wallet."

**I see no downsides to this plan!**

I typed my response:

_Show me some numbers, sister._

_Kisses,_

_Deadpool_

Her answer was as swift and to the point as it was spectacular.

_36-24-36_

_-Marina _

I blinked. The girl had _spunk_. And possibly gozangas like grapefruits.

**SOLD.**

_Don't fall for this again. We only end up embarrassed and alone._

"Can't hear you! Too busy getting my orgiastic money-dance festival. Click!"


	2. First Hit: Harry Potter

**(Real) Author's Note: **_All spelling errors are intentional_. The usernames I put in are not real people, and these are not real stories. They are definitely representations of some of the worst pieces of crap out there, however, so any resemblance to a particular story is not exactly intentional, but those who inspired this really ought to be ashamed. I know _I_ am. It was tempting to do a _My Immortal_ spoof, but that's probably been done to death at this point. We'll do something a little less extreme, and a lot more commonly seen, here. (_Note to self_: _sanitize eyes_! _Ye gods_!)

* * *

"_Da da da DA DA, da da da DA DA!"_

My cell phone was ringing. Which was weird, because I didn't _have _a cell phone.

_Is that a "La Cucaracha" ringtone_? _Jesus God, answer it before it drives us crazier_!

**Oh man, LOVE this song! We should totally let it keep ringing so we can listen to it for a while.**

_What, like the dickheads who set entire songs as text notifications?_ _No thanks! ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!_

I pulled out the phone and held it to the fabric over my ear. The mask isn't as inconvenient as it seems. The thing is really breathable. Airy, even. I mean, let's face it—when your clothes are entirely made of spandex and gun holsters, you're basically walking around buck-naked. And it's _allowed_.

"You have three seconds to tell me how you got into my pants," I said into the mouthpiece. "I usually have to trick people into doing that. I know you didn't roofie me. My healing factor makes it pretty much impossible for drugs or alcohol to affect me."

_Besides, we haven't had anything to drink this week. Including water._

**Is that bad?**

A woman's voice answered. "Yes, it _is _bad. Look around. You'll find a couple dozen water bottles behind the tree to your left." I caught a light trace of an accent, but it wasn't Russian or Greek.

_Norwegian_.

**Whaaa? **

_Seriously, it's Norwegian. Or…Norwegian-American. Whatever._

**How do we know what that even sounds like?**

_We've been around._

I moved cautiously to the tree and glanced around it. A case of Aquafina sat sparkling in the sunlight.

**Holy shit!**

"You can see my thoughts!" I said. "You're the Author—and you're a chick! Listen, babe, I clicked the button to accept your contract and woke up here. Where am I?"

"Well, that's a bit complicated to explain. Tell me, do you see a castle nearby?"

"Yeah."

_How did we miss that_?

**Is there a princess inside?! A hot princess?! Please tell us there's a princess to rescue!**

"Good," she said. "That's the setting, but there's no one in there right now, because you have not yet chosen a story. Now, look up at the sky, and you'll see the first item on your hit list. Literally."

I tilted my head and squinted at a white box that was floating in the air for no apparent reason.

"I apologize for what you're about to read, Deadpool," Marina sighed, "but this is business. This is why I need you."

* * *

Emerald or Sapphire: Eyes of the Beholder by LadyCaitlynCullen 

You can't pick who u love. Sapphire de la Fleur is a ravenclaw Seeker who just wants to be normal…but when a certain famous hero and villain who have kept their love a secret for years also fall in love with her and it threatens to ruin their relationsjhip, can they make it work an still save the world? How could she chose between them? AU…DRARRYxOC

Rated: M – English – Romance/Angst - Harry P. Draco M. OC

* * *

_What the fuck?_

**What the fuck?**

"What the fuck?"

"I know," she said ruefully. "I'm sorry."

"So, what, I just bump off this LadyCaitlynCullen dame?"

"No, that would only protect the future, preventing her from creating more atrocities like this one. We need to save the _present_. So I need you to reach up and touch the blue part—the title. That will activate the fanfiction, and fill the castle and grounds with people. LadyCaitlynCullen is controlling them, and you need to find a way to resolve the story, so their suffering will end. These things will frequently go on and on for over a hundred thousand words, never even getting finished because their authors abandon them. She may have left a note, which should give you further clues about what to expect, here, but it's a crapshoot at best, because the note may be a simple shout-out. Either way, find it. And remember: kill the story, not the author..." Her voice was fading. "Deadpool," she whispered. "Swing away…"

The line went dead.

_Was that a _Signs_ reference at the end, there?_

"Who the hell knows? This is the weirdest job we've ever had."

_Is it? Is it REALLY?_

**Yeah, come on, let's be honest. It's not.**

_We've done…things. Deeply twisted things. Remember _Wade Wilson's War_?_

"We said we'd never speak of that again!" I said, aghast. "That storyline was a _lie_! It never happened!"

**It still gives us nightmares. Let's stop thinking about it and push the button!**

"Yeah, you know what? I think I like you better than the courier-font Voice."

_I'm just giving us the facts, man! I can't help it if they're harsh and dark!_

I ignored that particular voice in my head and pressed the story title. The description box disappeared and an envelope fell out of the air. I caught it easily. Because of, you know, my ninja-like reflexes.

**Suck it, Spiderman! You're not the only mouthy dude with heightened senses in the Marvel universe!**

_The degree to which we secretly want to be him is really depressing. _

"Hey, I'm trying to read this shit! Where's your professionalism?"

* * *

A/N: THERES 8 YEARS OF HOGWARTS INSTEAD OF 7 IN THIS STORY SO EVERYONE IS 18 OKAY SO ITS NOT ILLEGAL. PLZ DON'T FLAME!1! R&R!

* * *

I stared for a few seconds, not completely sure what I was looking at.

**A/N…?**

_Author's Note._

"So lemme get this straight," I said, absently scratching my ass. "The main characters in this magic-schoolgirl story are all 18?"

_It's like the Olsen Twins, all over again. Are we going to be creepy about this?_

"Only if by 'creepy' you mean 'totally allowed to do whatever we want'…"

_Which is what we normally do, anyway._

"Then yes."

**LICENSE TO THRILL, BABY!**


	3. The Perfect Plan

"Ahhhh, Aquafina. Pure water, perfect taste. Hey, if this is product-placement, how much do you figure that sentence was worth? I said it after every bottle, so whatever it is, they'd better multiply it by 48."

_We were NOT supposed to drink the entire case!_

"Then why did she put an entire case there?" I countered, belching. "Gotta be _prepared_ in situations like these. I've got a gut feeling it was all part of the plan."

**Besides, we puked a lot of it back up. It's cool. Feel the hydration! We're so healthy!**

_How are we supposed to complete this mission when we slosh when we walk?_

"Elementary, my dear Voice," I said, pointing to the nearby tree line. "We don't walk. I figure we do this Hit Monkey-style until we have a better idea."

**Hit Monkey?**

_Yes, he tried to kill us in _Monkey Business_. Remember?_

**Monkey Business? The arc where we got to pal around with Spidey? Can you believe he doesn't have a Spider Cave? He's Spiderman! He should have a Spider Cave!**

_I think the prime focus here is the monkey in the tuxedo that spent the entire story trying to spray our brains all over the ceiling._

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. But that's not the important part…remember the maid costume we wore to confuse him?"

**That SHOULD have worked!**

_Putting a skimpy mini-dress with ruffles over our bright red spandex suit does not count as a disguise._

"Well, in between water bottles and vomiting I skimmed through the Spark Notes version of this series. We need some billowy black wizard robes if we wanna blend. But since we don't know where the laundry room is in this big-ass castle, I figure we go in with _style_. There's only one way to charge a castle, am I right?"

_Oh no. Oh no, no, no._

**YES!**

"Time to find a noble steed!"

* * *

_Why did they put a children's school next to THIS place? This is where you go to make bodies disappear._

"Indeed. Gentlemen, welcome to the Forbidden Forest. Home of centaurs, werewolves, unicorns, and, if I'm right, our ticket into this joint."

**Flying invisible zombie-horses!**

_Thestrals? The undead horses with wings, which only those who have watched a person die can see? Again, I'm constrained to ask, is this seriously a children's book?!_

"Says here," I said, pulling out my cell phone again, "that these things like the smell of raw meat. And we all know we won't have _any_ trouble seeing them."

_Oh, great._

I pulled off a glove and waved it in the air, calling, "Heeeere horsey-horsey! Soooooooey! Don't mind the gunpowder. Think of it as, uh…seasoning."

_This is degrading. Do we even have self-esteem, anymore? All those times girls said, "Ew, no way, you smell like old steak!"…_

**That's the smell of HEALING FACTOR, man! That's the smell that says, "I'll never leave you, even if my enemies blow my head off, 'cause it'll just grow back!" That's **_**fidelity**_**. We're seriously the perfect guy! Someday they'll all see it.**

Several dark, skeletal horses appeared in the distance, drawn by the scent of my fucked-up hand. As promised by the Harry Potter Wiki, they had huge, bat-like wings and reptilian heads. Their sharp bone structure was easy to see against the smooth black hide that covered their bodies. This was not going to be good for my glutes.

The biggest one approached me and licked at my bare hand, then flared his nostrils and snorted violently, staggering backward.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sighed. "It's no picnic for me, either. Listen…one ugly to another—do me a solid and let me ride you up to the castle."

_I don't think that's going to work._

"Shut up. I'm in the middle of a bro-down," I hissed. Turning back to the thestral, I spread my hands and said, "I respect you, bro. You and me, we're the same. People give us a bad rep because of the way we look, you know what I'm saying? Look at you, living in this shithole forest, when you could be out meeting lots of fine ladies in the big world. And me…I gotta wear this mask because my face makes babies cry."

_And some grown men. Actually, it comes in handy, sometimes._

"I feel the pain. I feel it in _here_." I thumped my chest with my fist. "But that's the thing, bro. I'm just another merc. Nobody gives a shit about me. But you? You are a _stallion_, man! Fuck Pegasus. Maybe he gets all the honeys because he's pretty, but when a job needs doing, who do they turn to?"

The thestral looked around, then shifted on his hooves.

"That's right," I said. "You. My man. You're pulling carriages for those assholes when you should be taking to the _skies_! You get no respect from them. Neither do I. And they may not be able to see you because of the whole death thing, but they can sure as hell see me." I pulled off my mask and grinned.

The thestral let out a startled wheeze and shook his head violently.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know what I look like, bro…" I started to put the mask back on, and the thestral hesitated, then stepped toward me again and nudged my elbow with his nose, lowering a wing.

**Interspecies BROMAAAANCE!**

_I can't believe this is working._

"Thanks, bro. I'll never forget this." I climbed up and sat with my knees in front of the thestral's wing joints, threading his mane through my fingers and hoping I wouldn't fall on my ass the second he took off. "By the way, do you know anything about a chick named, uh…" I fiddled with the author's note in my belt pouch. "Sapphire de la Fleur?"

**Why are we asking the horse?**

_Wait for it…_

"Sapphire?" A stupidly handsome guy wandered into the clearing. At first I thought he was riding a horse, but then I realized he was actually just a man's torso _attached_ to a horse. Or, part of a horse.

_See? This is recon._

**How did we know he would show up?**

_Well, this Sapphire girl is the main character, and apparently she's got at least two famous guys chasing her. It stands to reason that she, herself, is famous in this world, doesn't it?_

**But what was he doing? Just standing there the whole time, waiting for us to say her name? That's shitty writing!**

_That's why we're here, remember?_

**Oh.**

"Make it quick, pretty boy," I said. "I've got a kickass entrance to make and a longtime fantasy to fulfill."

"My name is Firenze," the centaur said dreamily. "I teach Divination at the School, and I do not live in the forest anymore, but I could not help noticing your intrusion into my old home."

"Well, I'm on my way out. What do you know about Sapphire?"

The thestral heaved a great sigh, but Firenze seemed to perk up instantly. His blue eyes glazed over with what could only be a nauseating amount of lovelight. "Sapphire de la Fleur is the most gifted human I have ever seen. She is a natural Seer, far greater than any of my people. She is a descendant of one of the founders of Hogwarts, Rowena Ravenclaw, for whom her House was named, and she has top marks in all of her classes. She models for the Firebolt racing broom company, and plays the position of Seeker for her House Quidditch team. Her favorite color is azure, and she has a unicorn named Moonlight and a white cat named Shadow."

…_Uh, wow._

"What are you, her stalker?"

Firenze gave me a wounded look. "I am her teacher. If…if she would have me, I would be her lover, but I am only a humble centaur. A beautiful, perfect young woman like Sapphire can hardly be expected to look my way."

_Stop right there, brain. We do not want that image in our head._

**Aw, come on. Remember that video of the girl with the horse and—**

_Shut up! We don't watch that stuff!_

**Who are we trying to impress? The Readers? Think they'll judge us? Wait, are we starting to care about the Readers?! **

_Some of them are girls, and we are single. It can't hurt to try to take this opportunity to get back into the dating game…_

**Dude. That's just sad.**

"Right." I cleared my throat. "Uh, what does she look like?"

"She is 5'9" with—"

"Woah, woah, wait. _5'9"_? I thought we were in England. Don't you guys use the metric system?"

Firenze seemed confused. "I do not know what you imply."

_Oh boy._

**What's the metric system?**

"I'm getting that…" I scratched my head. "And they think _I'm_ crazy. All right, look, just keep going. I think being around you is killing off my brain cells faster than the cancer."

"She is 5'9" with waist-length golden-blonde hair, orbs of blue crystal—"

"Orbs of—what?"

"Her eyes. They are blue."

_If this is how the author wrote the entire story, we might as well shoot ourselves now._

**That never works. Hey, let's just shoot everyone else!**

"We won't get paid if we don't do this right," I muttered. "Yo, Firenze. More description, less bad poetry. What makes her stick out from a crowd? I need to find her."

He went on, still looking dazed and lovesick. "Her modeling contract requires her to wear designer clothing from the Firebolt company. She has been exempted from the school uniform for this reason." He sighed. "It is a terrible burden for her. She laments standing out so much, but she has no other means of income, as both of her parents died and left her with nothing but a large, empty mansion, but not enough money to maintain it."

"Why doesn't she just sell the mansion?"

"That is her family home!" Firenze said, incensed. "The very idea is an insult! No, she must model for Firebolt and wear their designs…for her _ancestors_."

"Okaaaay. We're leaving now. By the way—teacher-student relations? Never a good idea."

"She is 18," Firenze reminded me as the thestral flapped its wings and started to rise.

I held on tightly. "Oh man, what a nutcase. Onward, noble stallion! We must rescue the castle from the princess!"

The thestral snorted as if to say, "_You_ _have no idea, buddy_," and carried me toward the castle. We passed over a lake, and I glanced down and saw my reflection in the water. It looked like I was flying on my own through the air, splay-legged. There was no image of the horse.

I threw back my head and started to sing, enjoying the rush of wind against my mask. If only I had hair for the wind to ruffle. I could imagine how nice that would feel.

"She seems to have an invisible touch, yeah  
She reaches in, and grabs right hold of your heart  
She seems to have an invisible touch yeah  
It takes control and slowly tears you apart.

She don't like losing, to her it's still a game  
And though she will mess up your life,  
You'll want her just the same, and now I know  
She has a built in ability  
To take everything she sees  
And now it seems I've fallen, fallen for her!"

_Why are we singing a Genesis song?_

"I dunno, it just felt strangely appropriate. It's a tasty jam, and we _are_ invisible."

**Invisible Touch!**

_The _horse_ is invisible. We just look like we have a rocket-powered penis._

**That. Is. Brilliant. Write that down and patent that shit! Rocket-dick! Genius!**

"Oof, speaking of, I gotta find a can. I drank 48 bottles of Aquafina. I need to take the mother of all leaks. Thestral-bro, could you set me down outside the nearest men's?"

The skeletal horse landed gracefully on the roof, outside a tower. There was just enough room for me to jump off his back and onto the window sill.

"Thanks, man! I guess this is where we part ways. I'll give 'em hell for you, buddy. Bump it."

I held out my fist, and the thestral tapped his nose against it. Then he turned and took off again, headed back to the forest.

_You know, this was actually a really good plan. We have intel, and we have a way into the castle, with none the wiser about our presence._

**And since this is the bathroom, we can just knock some guy out and take his wizard robes, right?**

"We'll figure it out."

The window was already partly open, probably to let out stink fumes from the aftermath of a fried English breakfast. I pulled it all the way open and slid into the room.

"Never again with the full case of Aquafina! Aieeee!" I tiptoed to the urinals, wincing. The jostling zombie-horse ride had not been kind.

After I relieved myself, I sighed contentedly and washed my hands. Now all I had to do was steal some kid's clothes and work my way into the crowd until I found Sapphire. From what Firenze had said, it sounded like this would not be too hard.

I glanced toward the door and realized that it was even simpler than I'd thought. Two sets of wizard robes were lying on the floor.

**Score! Take 'em!**

_Why are they just lying there?_

I shrugged, pulling the larger set over my head. It covered all of my suit, except for my mask. That was going to be a problem…I could take the mask off, but the face beneath was a mess of scar tissue. It looked more like a lumpy hamburger than a face.

_Do it. If anyone says anything, just tell them about the cancer._

**Yeah, then they'll feel like total jerks!**

_Actually, this entire experience might prove to be very validating for us._

"Let's not take this to extremes." I pulled off my mask and stuffed it into my pocket. "Now, we're gonna want to get of here, pronto."

**How come?**

_Two sets of robes are on the floor of the men's room. Figure it out._

As if on cue, the door of one of the stalls flew open, and two guys tumbled out of it, locked in a passionate embrace. I wanted to leave—I really, really did. But I was just so damn confused, because I recognized them. I had seen their pictures on Wikipedia. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were making out on the floor. It flew in the face of all logic. They were supposed to be arch-enemies. Instead, they were tickling each other's tonsils.

**Can we leave? This is too weird, even for us.**

Harry heard me take a step toward the door and gasped, pulling away from Draco. "Someone's seen us!"

"Wh-what?" Draco looked up, then flinched as his eyes found my face. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"_I _was taking a leak," I answered. "What's _your_ excuse? At least I have a legitimate reason for being here."

"If you ever tell anyone—if you say a word—you're dead," Draco snarled. "Do you hear me, freak? I don't recognize your face, but it's not one anyone's likely to forget in a hurry. I have friends in high places, so keep your mouth shut about this."

"Oooo, scary! Well, I'm taking your clothes as payment for misuse of a bathroom stall. If I were you, I'd keep quiet about me and my face."

"Why should I?"

"Draco…" Harry began, putting a hand on his shoulder, but Draco shrugged him off.

"Answer me! I said, why should I?"

Eh, what the hell. I used what seemed to be the magic word around here. "_Sapphire de la Fleur_."

Both boys suddenly blushed, looking anywhere but at each other.

"That's what I thought. Boy, you guys have some serious issues to work out. Good luck with that. I quit."

_We can't quit._

"Watch me," I murmured, opening the door. "This is completely retarded. I'm going back to the forest to chill with my thestral homies until these idiots graduate."

"Oh! Sorry, I'm—I'm so clumsy!"

A girl had bumped into me as I exited, and now she stood back, her eyes downcast. I cocked my head to one side, looking her up and down. She wasn't wearing the black, shapeless robes everyone else had on.

**Everyone but the two dudes in the bathroom.**

_Not now! _

She wore a low-cut black dress that showed off her perfect figure. I couldn't see what it had to do with broom advertisement until I looked _reeeeal_ close and saw tiny lightning bolts above the frog clips that held the high slits in the skirt closed at the hip. For the most part, I was having trouble keeping my eyes off her legs, but she stood still long enough for me to take in the full magnitude of her supreme hotness. Apparently she was used to this. She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind one ear, from which dangled a sapphire earring. In fact, she had a _lot_ of rocks—sapphire earrings, a sapphire ring, a sapphire bracelet, and a sapphire pendant. She oozed wealth, despite what Firenze had said about her being forced to model just to make ends meet.

_Well, she's probably very good at her job._

**So…hot! Must…motorboat!**

I resisted the urge to stick my face between her boobs. It was a heroic effort, made all the more so because she would never know of my struggle, and how damn hard it was. Most women probably have no idea this even goes on. The men around them are fighting themselves every day just to avoid motorboating them, and do they get any recognition for it? No!

**C'mon…they're literally **_**right there**_**! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?**

_Think of it this way: if we do that, it will be wonderful for about five seconds, but then she'll hit us in the face or the balls, or both, and she'll never speak to us again. We need to finish this job and get the hell out of here. Remember what's in the bathroom? Pretty sure the stain on the sleeve of this robe isn't toothpaste._

**Damn it! We wouldn't even have been in there if it wasn't for all those water bottles. Fuck you, Aquafina! Fuck you and your pure, perfect taste!**

Finally, I had distracted myself enough to hold an intelligent conversation. "Are you Sapphire de la Fleur? I was pretty much told to look for the hottest chick in Hogwarts, and…uh, well, pretty sure that's you. You're also wearing about 30 Gs in sapphires and white gold. Kind of like a nametag, right? I totally get it, babe!" Well, semi-intelligent.

Her eyes filled with tears. At first I thought it was my face and instinctively reached for my mask, but then she spoke. "That's all anyone ever sees!" she wailed. "Why did I have to be born beautiful? I never asked to be good at everything! It's a curse! No one understands me! No one knows what it's like to be judged but me!"

_Um…_

**Sorry, I…I got nothing.**

"You know what? I was going to try to help you with the hope that it might possibly lead to a happy ending, but I can tell already that you're just a spoiled bitch with no redeeming qualities who _definitely_ wouldn't sleep with a guy like me, so I'm just gonna tell you one thing. Your little boytoys are boofing each other in the loo behind me. Enjoy that."

She stared at me in shock. "You…you don't think I'm pretty?"

_She is really stuck on that, isn't she?_

"Oh no, you're hot. But that's about it." I turned away and pulled out my phone. Marina could take this job and stuff it unless I had permission to kill everyone in the castle.

The door opened before I could finish dialing. Draco and Harry emerged awkwardly. Harry was in his underpants, having had his clothes stolen. They cringed when they saw Sapphire.

"So it's true," she sobbed. "I…I don't know what to say to either of you! Draco…you said you loved me! And so did you, Harry!"

"And you were cool with that? Just stringing both of them along?" I said.

"Sapphire!" Harry cried, throwing himself dramatically at her feet. "You don't understand! I've never felt so conflicted in my life. Before you, there was only Draco. At first we hated each other, but…"

"But something changed," Draco finished for him, his eyes blazing with warmth. "The fire of our hatred became a burning torch of passion, and one night in the trophy room, it…it overwhelmed us. It was just supposed to be a duel, but it turned into something so much more."

"We were together for so long, and then you transferred in, Sapphire. I didn't know Draco felt the same way about you that I do, but now that I do, I…feel relieved, honestly. I don't feel like I'm cheating, anymore when I allow myself to think of you, because I know he does it, as well."

**Let's shoot ourself in the head. Please! At least we'll be out of this for a few minutes! No more! NO MORE!**

_Think of the money, think of the money, think of the money…_

**MAKE IT STOP!**

Tears rolled down Sapphire's cheeks and landed on her jeweled necklace. She pressed her hands to her face. "I…I love you both. I just don't know what to do right now. I don't know how to feel!"

Marina's voice suddenly replayed in my mind, as softly as it had on the cell phone. _Deadpool, _she had whispered. _Swing away…_

_Bingo._

**Yahtzee!**

I raised my right hand slowly. It all happened that way—slowly, the way it does in Zack Snyder movies, until it speeds up again so you get the full force of a kickass flying tiger knee or a spent shotgun cartridge. I pivoted, putting my body behind my movement, adding weight, adding momentum. The back of my hand connected with Harry's face, and for a moment, I saw surprise in his emerald green eyes, and in that moment, I finally understood the title of the story. It was so goddamn stupid. And it gave me an idea. Emerald or Sapphire? That was the key. It had to be him or her. That was the only thing that was going to make this shit stop.

As Harry collided with the wall with the force of my bitchslap, I silenced Sapphire's squeal of horror with my other hand. Draco simply stared at me intensely, anger and hatred in his eyes. That seemed to be the extent of the writer's knowledge of his behavior. In short, he was a shallow asshole with nice hair.

I picked Harry up and slung him, semi-conscious, over my shoulder. "Okay, listen up," I said. "The Harry Potter Wiki says the main baddie of this series is some dude named Voldemort. Says he's trying to come back from being half-dead, or whatever. Is that right?"

Sapphire nodded vigorously.

"Well, let's give him what he wants."

"Why would you do such a terrible thing?" she gasped.

"So I can _kill_ him. _Duh_. I kill the baddie, the story ends, and I get to leave. Whaddya say, Voices?"

_Surprisingly logical. If we can pull it off._

**Ziggy says there's a 97% probability that if you don't do this by Tuesday, everyone in the castle will die of dysentery because the guy who invented the cure will never have been born.**

_Quantum Leap! We love that show! Seriously, though, let's do this as fast as possible._

"All right, let's raise a motherfucking Dark Lord!" I checked my phone, still holding Harry by the legs. "Unicorn blood…hmm. Hey, Sapphire, go get Moonlight so we can ki—uh, feed her lots of…birthday cake...yeah..."

_Smooth, genius._


	4. Avada KaBOOM!

_We are sooo fired. _

**It wasn't our fault!**

My phone was ringing for the fifth time in two minutes. I was sort of hoping the Author would forget I was here and push the big reset button in the sky, but eventually I remembered that she could see everything I was doing. "La Cucaracha" just kept on playing. I sighed and bit the bullet.

_Fly casual!_

"Yyyello?" I crooned into the mouthpiece.

"Hi Wade." She sounded exhausted. "Sorry I've been gone. I've been in and out of the hospital since July, so I missed pretty much everything you did. How's it go—woah, wait, who's crying in the background?"

I winced and glanced around nervously, jogging away from the paddock. "Um, that's…me. Yeah. Totally me. I just heard they're cancelling _Grey's Anatomy_. Contracts are up, or something like that. No more Doctor McHandsome."

"Everyone's dead, aren't they."

**It WASN'T our fault!**

I scratched my head and sighed. "Yeah…pretty much. Except for Sapphire." I glanced over my shoulder, where the blonde was holding the decapitated head of her unicorn, sobbing. "She's just been sitting on the ground and crying over her dead unicorn for three months. You'd think she'd have starved to death or died of dehydration by now, but she's still here. I don't know what it is, but she just won't _die_. It's like _Highlander_, only hotter and more annoying."

"Yeah, I probably should have told you—Mary Sues can't be killed."

"Who's Mary Sue? Does she have a healing factor like me? Is she single?"

_Mary Sue…what a beautiful name. Classy. Reminiscent of the golden days of swing dancing, poodle skirts and curls, and McCarthyism._

**She could be our immortal girlfriend!**

"No, nothing about a Mary Sue is real. It's just the way they're made," Marina said, quietly crushing my dreams. "It began with a Star Trek fan who wrote a character named Mary Sue, which makes me sad, because I love the Original Series. Anyway, these days, a Mary Sue is almost always the most attractive girl in the area—often looking a lot like what the author wishes _she_ looked like—but she'll always consider herself plain, or so she'll say, and every guy will be in love with her to one degree or another. They don't have much of a personality beyond the usual teen-style angst, but they can pull off some seriously powerful bullshit for no apparent reason. Total shenanigans. Basically, they're god-modded. Most of the time, the authors try to mask this by giving them an endearing flaw, such as clumsiness. I'm guessing Sapphire did something clumsy the second you met, and then immediately told you she was clumsy in case you didn't get it right away, yes?"

I grimaced and tried to sound confident while watching Sapphire weep over Moonlight's head. Boy, did I ever screw this one up. I could almost feel my orgiastic money-dance party slipping through my fingers. "Um…you're breaking up, dollface. Hold, please. Your call is very important to us."

**_Did_ she say anything? All we remember is boobs.**

_Just say yes. We have a 50% chance of being right. Those are better odds than we usually have._

"Thank you for your patience," I said, totally professional and everything. "Could you repeat your question?"

"Never mind. It's not really important. Can you bring me up to speed on what I missed while I was incapacitated?"

"You're not gonna like it," I warned her.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Try me."

_We're screwed._

"Well," I began, leaning against a huge tree stump, "after I showed Harry the pimp hand, I tricked Sapphire into showing me her pet unicorn by pretending to want to give it some birthday cake. Because, you know, that's what unicorns eat. When we get down there, I dump Harry on the ground and do a ninja slice and dice on Moonlight so I can use the blood to summon Darth Voldeface. But I got it totally wrong, because he didn't show up, and Sapphire got_ reeeally _pissed off and turned into a pokemon and bit the absolute shit out of my arm, and set my suit on fire with her tails. She had like ten of them."

"She turned into _Ninetails_? Nice. I figured she'd be an animagus, but the cartoon Japanese fox demon is going a bit far even for this. What happened then?"

"I tried to catch her and she ran away toward this huge tree, and I chased her, and then the tree _attacked_ me! So I'm all, 'Have at thee, fiend!' with this stupid tree and spend an hour and a half chopping it down with a katana while Sapphire hides in a secret passageway underneath." I paused. "Not counting breaks for pancakes and Yoohoo. That's thirsty work, I'll tell ya."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. I shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting. I've never been good on the phone.

"Wade…Why the hell did you spend an hour and a half chopping down the Whomping Willow?"

**We were really pissed off.**

_We were _bored_._

**We were kind of hoping the tree might kill us.**

_We probably shouldn't mention the fact that we spent the first 45 minutes trying to fight it using only our face._

"It was all part of my incredibly intricate strategy, my dear lady!" I said grandly. "The tree was a liability. I had to make sure it couldn't be used against me later."

"It's a _tree_."

"It _was_ a tree. Now it'll probably end up in some eco-conscious company's toilet paper, or those biodegradable Annie Chun's noodle bowls."

_Really? Again with the product placement?_

**It's a good financial decision! And the apartment needs a new kitchen. Those pancakes aren't going to make themselves, and we need to be prepared to fill up another swimming pool in case Domino decides to drop in again. I think we really impressed her last time.**

"…one else?"

"What?" I realized I'd missed most of whatever Marina was saying while I was thinking about what I like to call _D-Pooli's Olympic Flapjack Flop-pool_, which holds about 12,000 standard buckwheat pancakes when you drain all the water.

_And it's gluten-free_!

"…everyone die? Damn it, Wade, are you thinking about breakfast foods again?"

"No, no. Yes. Uh…_maybe_?"

"_Wade_."

"Okay, yes. You got me. Now where was I?"

"You were about to tell me how everyone died."

"Ohhhh. Right. Well, I figured I'd read the final book in the series, so I'd know how to defeat the bad guy. Then I see that he's split himself up into a bunch of pieces so he can't be killed, and I ask Sapphire about it, and she says she already has them because Professor Bumblebee told her she was the only one who could keep them safe. Soooo, then she gave them to me."

"I'm guessing this was _before_ you chopped her unicorn's head off."

"Yep. She…doesn't like me anymore."

"How did everyone else die?"

"That's the crazy part!" I held one of my katanas up to the sunlight, checking it for nicks. My mask had a few giant tears in it; I could see bits of my face reflected in the blade. "I started to realize that Sapphire had superpowers, so I convinced her to use her divine mojo to summon the Dark Lord."

"How did you manage that?"

"I grabbed Draco Malfoy and stashed him in the astronomy tower while she was doing her angry fox-ghost thing. Then I told her that someone had put a curse on him that brainwashed him into joining the dark side, and that the only way to get him back was for her to use her powers to destroy Lord Voldeguy. She bought it. So she did her thing and he showed up—and he was uglier than me, which actually made me kind of want to keep him around, like a less attractive minion, so I'd look better to the ladies. But it turns out he's kind of a douche. So Harry's in his underwear but somehow he has a sword stashed in there and he gives it to Sapphire, and she stabs a bunch of random things with it. But he's still not dead. And then I remember the part where you're supposed to be all sad because the main character has to make the ultimate sacrifice or whatever since part of the bad guy's soul is inside him. So…long story short, I ganked Harry Potter. Then Draco Malfoy jumped off the astronomy tower and killed himself while blasting a Taylor Swift album from his window. And then I shot Voldemort in the face with a bazooka. It turned him into red mist, so I'm pretty sure he'll stay dead this time. Huh. Looking back, it was actually pretty dark."

"What about everyone else? All the other students and the teachers?"

_She isn't going to ask where we got the bazooka?_

"Well, that's where the killer tree comes in. Sapphire is super-pissed at me for everything, so she gets the whole school to come after me. I make a break for it and dive into the hole under the stump of the ex-tree. It's a secret passageway to some haunted house, and I figure they'll have to get caught in a bottleneck if they want to get at me. And that's when the thestrals show up. See, I made a bro-pact with their leader, and I guess he got sick of being a second-class citizen because he orchestrated a Forbidden Forest uprising…aaaand then everybody got eaten by werewolves and giant spiders. Except Sapphire. And me." I braced myself for a whole lot of yelling. "Am I fired?"

"Nah. That's not so different from what happened in the real books. J.K. Rowling killed off almost all of the characters by the end of the series. You're good. Now, all you have to do to get out of there is deal with Sapphire. This business with the pokemon transformation has me concerned that she might attempt a _crossover_ fiction. We can't afford to take that chance."

"But she won't _die_," I complained.

"I can help you there. But I need a little favor from you first. I think you'll like it. Feel like letting off a little steam after your ordeal?"

**Is this a trick question?**

_What are we going to say? No? It's the AUTHOR. And she doesn't even care that we got everyone killed!_

**Best. Boss. EVER.**

"Sure, sweetcheeks. What do I need to do?"

An arcade machine materialized in front of me, along with a giant cardboard box.

"Remember the giant hammers High Moon gave you in your video game?" she asked.

**YESSSSSS!**

_Surprisingly handy for stealth kills._

**With plenty of catchy one-liners, like, "In a world where douchebags get killed by giant hammers…"**

_I don't think that was the actual line, but the spirit of the thing is still there, and that's what really counts._

Then, she said the most magical words I have ever heard.

"I saved them for you."

I peered inside the box and saw my beloved hammers, cushioned by a pile of exactly 55 stuffed…_cats_…

_? ...!?_

**Okay, the cats are weird, but the hammers are awesome, so we're just going to not care.**

"Are the cats important?" I asked, despite myself. I just had to know. I knew from personal experience that most weird-ass things usually look a lot less weird once a plan unfolds. The weirder the goods, the more kickass the plan. That's my rule of thumb.

**Or rule of stump, on bad days. But only for a couple of hours.**

"Absolutely," she replied, and I could hear definite anticipation in her voice. "See, you're learning about fanfiction and other common internet-related phenomena. As it happens, the very day I got a new computer, I posted a story I'd been working on for teens. My old computer was broken, so I lost my notes for the other stories I've published and couldn't update them from a different computer. I'd also been ridiculously ill. _All_ of this information was prominently displayed on my bio/profile page. And yet, just hours after I updated, I finally caught one."

"One what?"

_What does this have to do with a box of stuffed animals?_

"My first troll," she said placidly.

"You caught a _troll_, so you sent me two hammers and a box of cats. Sounds like something _I_ would do. Obviously, it's the perfect plan. What's the plan, again?"

"Remember Whack-a-Mole? The game you see at state fairs and such, where you wait for a mole to pop up out of one of many holes and try to bash it with a hammer before it can duck back underground?"

"Yeah, I always thought that game was a little morbid. I liked the hot dog eating contests much better. You're talking to the official champion hot dog AND taco salad eater of Canada! I do autographs. Five bucks a letter. And don't get cute and tell me the double o's should count as one just because they're the same letter."

"Sure thing. Now, let's get on with this. I call it…Whack-a-Troll. You catch a troll—someone who goes out of their way to say something personal and nasty to you for no good reason—put it in the box, and dump the box into the receptacle in the back of the machine. Then the game begins. I provide the trolls, you swing the hammers. Everybody wins. And if the trolls trollishly change usernames to continue their assdouchery, you get to play again! Oh, and here's _Resident Evil 6_. Troll-ass game. Smash that, too. And _Aliens: Colonial Marines_. Smash that one twice."

**Go for the gold! If there's one thing we're really good at, besides assassination and eating contests, it's breaking stuff.**

_I want the hammer on the left. Dibs. I called it._

**What? Why?**

_Because the one on the left is always Player 1. Duh._

**You sneaky son of a bitch.**

"So if I do this, you'll get me out of here?"

"Absolutely. And I think you're going to _love_ the next destination. Think of it as a reward. Happy smashing! I'll call you later."

"I love our new job," I sighed happily, tipping the stuffed cats into the machine. Each of the 55 cats had a dangling collar with a heart-shaped nametag bearing the letter "E". I picked one of them up and turned it upside down. It had the words, "Are you planning on finishing your other two stories? What the hell? You really have an inconsistency problem. First you finish a book, then start a sequel, then another story, and now YET another story. I keep checking your site and there's been no activity for months and now suddenly you just start another new story (even though I never, ever left a review until now. Because I just love publicly humiliating strangers using a guest name that gives me consequence-free license to be a troll. Also, I don't know how to read too well, because I totally missed the whole, "Marina's been in and out of the hospital since July" update in the profile. Also, this has nothing to do with Diablo but I'm going to post it here anyway because that's totally what review boxes are for. Personal attacks are great ways to motivate writers and in no way make them lose the desire to write, and they certainly never undermine their self-esteem. Writers aren't allowed to do more than one story at a time to appeal to a wider audience, and definitely not for their own enjoyment.)" stamped across its rear end.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman unfairly trolled._

**Seriously. People get so touchy about this fanfiction thing. What's the big deal?**

"I don't get it, but I do get these hammers, and they are the _tits_."

The first cat-head popped up. I gave it my best steely glare and flexed. Fuck this cat. I was pretty confident I'd earned a nice break.

"You want me to put the hammer down?!" I roared. I just couldn't help myself.

_Okay, this is just blatant plagiarism now. We seriously need to figure out a catchphrase of our own instead of stealing them from Thor, or the Thing, or Hulk…_

"Whatever. It's not like Thor can kill us." _WHACK. _

_Yeah, but no one likes to get hit with a 16-ton Viking boomerang hammer made of lightning bolts and hatred. _

**We should really think about getting one of those. And a cape. A red one.**

"You know, technically speaking, we're stealing Chris Hemsworth's line—no wait, Joss Whedon's!"

**Joss Whedon was Thor?! But he's so…you know, uh…bald. He has a great beard, though. Wish we could grow a beard. Or hair.**

_No, no, no, he WROTE the Avengers movie. Chris Hemsworth was Thor._

**Another man with a great beard!**

When the last cat turned to tufty bits, I dialed the Author again.

"Is it done?" she asked grimly.

"It's over. On this day, justice has been met. With hammers."

"Thank you, Deadpool. Now, if you'll just step back a few more yards, I'll get you out of here."

I let the hammers rest on my shoulders and moved back. A shadow blotted out the sun for an instant, and then Sapphire de la Fleur—and the entire area around her—exploded.

"Jesus Christ on toast!" I gasped, grabbing a tree trunk as the shockwave knocked me off my feet. "What was that?"

"That was an FIM-92 Stinger missile. It's got a homing system, and it's light and portable—a great choice for all occasions which might require ground to air takedowns. The tube is reusable, too. And if you've got a good rack, you can carry a whole set of them just about anywhere."

_Don't say it. Be classy._

**But—but she totally softballed that in! How can we pass it up?**

I clamped my jaws shut, but my lips still managed to squeeze out a corny comeback. I just can't stop talking. It's like a disease. Maybe it _is_ a disease. "I love a good rack," I said through my teeth.

_God damn it._

**Zing! Get it? We rule.**

_I hate you._

**That's not what you said last night.**

I put my head in my hand with a sigh. Luckily for me, she laughed instead of hanging up on me. "Good. Because your next destination is full of hot warrior-maidens and cold winters. I'm sending you to Skyrim."


End file.
